Chapter 1

“Oh my God, did you hear? A whole group of people just stormed over to Building 8, shouting about confronting some homewrecker.”

I had just returned from the mall when I overheard the whispers as soon as I entered the neighborhood.

A homewrecker? This was one of the most expensive areas in the city, so it would not surprise me if some rich guy had a mistress hidden away here.

While wondering which family was behind the scandalous mess, I quickly walked home. However, just as I unlocked my door, I was stopped from entering.

“You’re Molly Benois, right?” The woman in front sneered, her gaze cold.

Behind her was a guy with dyed blonde hair and a few big, burly men.

“Jenn, it’s her. I saw her on Dad’s Facebook post. She looks exactly the same,” the blonde guy chimed in.

Facebook? Could it be the post that my brother Edward Grange shared yesterday after we sorted out the house transfer?

Along with a photo of us and the deed to the property, it captioned: [It’s finally returned to its rightful owner.]

That was the house I had bought for him. However, when I returned home, Edward, worried about his two kids fighting over the property, transferred it back to me.

I was about to explain when the woman kicked me hard in the chest with her ten-inch heels, grinding the heel in for good measure. I collapsed instantly, a sharp pain piercing my chest as I coughed up blood.

Two of the burly men quickly grabbed my phone and dragged me into the yard while the blonde guy looked around the property with disgust.

“Well, look at that. The old man is always crying poor to us, but here he is, living in luxury and keeping his little mistress in this nice place. Meanwhile, his real kids get nothing.”

Kids? That was when it hit me why the woman and blonde guy seemed so familiar. They were Edward's children, Jenny and Marcus Grange.

“You’re Jenny and Marcus, right? I’m not some mistress. I’m your aunt–”

“Shut up! How dare you pretend to be my aunt?” Marcus slapped me across the face, twice, leaving me dizzy, stars flashing in my eyes.

“Don’t give me that crap. My aunt’s been abroad, and she’s over fifty! You barely look thirty. If you’re going to lie, at least try harder.

“My dad’s over seventy years old. How could you stomach being with that wrinkled old man? You really would do anything for money, huh?”

I had always taken care of my appearance with cosmetic treatments, skin care, keeping fit, and always dressing well. Naturally, I looked younger than I was.

“Guys, shut her up,” Marcus ordered.

One of the burly men then pulled off his sock, getting ready to stuff it into my mouth.